User blog comment:Bartholomew Bilberry Bowstring/The First of Many/@comment-26024035-20160425040834/@comment-26024035-20160427011841

Shelran eyed him curiously, picking a ripe pear up in his strong paw. "Goody. An' y' best git used t' eachother, because we've one last mission fer ye afore th' big battle... We've weapons t' pick up from th' smith in th' Northernmost Camp, arrers, slings 'n' freshly-made bows, swords 'n' daggers. Axes. Spears. Th' like. Cart's up thar a ways." The Skipper of Mossflower Country pointed to an old, empty cart sitting nearby, its yoke empty and waiting. He bit into the pear with a pleasing crunch, spilling sweet juice down his chin as he chewed, swallowed, and treated the three squirrels to a grin. "Go on!"